


The Dissonance of Time and Harmony of Chance

by gaytectives



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Gen, Mental Health Issues, Panic Attacks, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-11
Updated: 2018-11-11
Packaged: 2019-08-21 21:51:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16584869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gaytectives/pseuds/gaytectives
Summary: Nothing ever quite goes the way Yuuri wants it to. For once, he thinks he can come to terms with that.





	The Dissonance of Time and Harmony of Chance

Yuuri has dreamt of skating on the same ice as Viktor since he first saw Viktor perform. He aspired to it for a decade; skating after school until his feet bled, until he couldn’t move, until he fell asleep on the ride home from the rink in the back of Yuuko’s mom’s car. He’s juggled practice, workouts, competitions, and his college course load. He’s worked his ass off, and it’s paying off. It’s time.

And he wants to run in the opposite direction until he can’t breathe, and then some.

“I’m going to _die_ ,” he groans, shoving his face into the crisp hotel pillow in front of him.

“You’re so melodramatic,” Phichit says. “I can physically feel your gay agony all the way in Detroit.”

Yuuri looks up at his computer and glares at Phichit’s smile. “This isn’t gay agony,” he insists.

“You’re right. It’s also irrational anxiety and ten years of pent up sexual frustration for someone you’ve never met.”

Yuuri groans again and covers his eyes, ignoring the burning in his cheeks. He doesn’t need to worry about his obvious attraction to Viktor in addition to everything else. “This is what happens when I get my hopes up,” he laments. “When I actually achieve a goal I end up freaking out because it’s not going to go the way I imagined it would for _my entire life_.”

“Yuuri,” Phichit says, tone a little more serious, “nothing will _ever_ go the way you imagine it. You have to take things as they come. You should be excited! This is your first ever Grand Prix qualifier and you’re in Paris, the city of love! You get to skate in the same bracket as Viktor Nikiforov!”

“That’s horrifying, not exciting,” Yuuri mutters. He drops his hands from his eyes and shakes his head. “I can’t consistently land the only quad in my entire program.”

Phichit sighs. “You’re only going to fall if you’re focusing on it. Ciao Ciao is right, you know — the only reason you aren’t landing your quad is because you’re thinking about it too much.”

Yuuri look down, cheeks pink. He knows that Phichit and Celestino mean well, but being told he thinks too much isn’t helpful. What is he supposed to do, just _not think?_ If it worked like that he wouldn’t have the problems he has now.

“Sorry,” Phichit says, practically reading his mind, “I know you hate that. But I also know that you _can_ skate like a champion, so I can’t go easy on you.”

“I hate you,” Yuuri mumbles halfheartedly.

“Love you too!” Phichit says, winking. “Okay, the dining hall is closing in half an hour so I need to go get dinner, and you have to sleep.” He pauses and smiles. “I’m proud of you, Yuuri.”

Yuuri smiles back weakly and nods. “Thanks, Phichit. Say goodnight to the hamsters for me.”

“Will do,” Phichit promises. “Chokh dī! Get some sleep!”

He hangs up the Skype call and Yuuri sighs, shutting his computer and pushing it aside. He glances at the clock on his bedside table and whines. It’s already midnight, he has to be up in six hours, and he’s jetlagged. This is going to be a mess.

The pressure isn’t low here. This is one of the most important performances of his career. If he bombs this, his chances of getting into the Grand Prix Final are so slim that there’s almost no point in showing up to his second qualifier in two weeks.

And on top of all of that is the undeniable. After a decade of dreaming, he’s about to skate on the same ice as Viktor. They’re officially competing for the same title, which means Viktor is unavoidably aware of him. Of course, he probably isn’t concerned at all and possibly knows nothing else about Yuuri, but that’s even worse.

That means that Yuuri _has_ to make an impact. If he messes up this round, all Viktor will ever know about him is him making it this far was a fluke.

 

* * *

 

 

Despite his greatest efforts, Yuuri only manages to get four hours of sleep. When he wakes up he feels hungover and useless. He doesn’t even bother with coffee; it’ll just make him more anxious than he already is.

He drifts aimlessly through the morning. He’s barely conscious and definitely dissociating because of anxiety, but his awareness of it doesn’t make it go away.

By the time the first bracket starts skating he feels empty and has to excuse himself to panic alone. He hurries to the nearest locker room and lets out a relieved sigh when he sees that it’s completely empty. He scurries inside and secludes himself in a corner out of sight and crouches on the floor, head between his knees.

Every time he tries to calm himself down, he has another idea of how horribly this is going to go. When he reminds himself how incredible it is that he’s gotten here, he thinks about how quickly it’s going to go down in flames. His eyes well up out of sheer frustration and he grabs two fistfuls of hair, trying to distract himself with pain. The tears start flowing and he chokes back a sob. He’s pathetic. He wants to run as far away as possible —

The locker room door squeaks open and Yuuri whips his head up, slapping a hand over his mouth.

He quiets his hyperventilation as much as possible and presses himself back against the wall. If he just sits still, he won’t be seen.

God, he needs to start crying in the toilet stalls.

He takes slow breaths and listens to the person wandering around the locker room humming to himself softly. Despite Yuuri’s overwhelming anxiety about the person being in here, the melody he’s humming is sort of soothing. And familiar. What is it from?

The footsteps get louder and closer and Yuuri squishes himself further out of sight. The stranger walks into Yuuri’s line of sight to look in the mirror and Yuuri’s stomach drops.

Viktor Nikiforov. Right there. That’s why Yuuri recognized what he was humming — it’s the music from Viktor’s short program. He’s here, humming his show music and fixing his eyeliner in the mirror while Yuuri panics in the corner, unable to stop staring at him.

Viktor stops humming and licks his lips, smudging his eye makeup with his fingers. “At this time my next season is still unplanned,” he says softly, like he’s rehearsing something. “My coach and I are exploring… _I_ am exploring new options — ” He cuts off with a short sigh, shaking his head.

Yuuri watches, enraptured, anxiety nearly forgotten, as Viktor frowns at himself in the mirror. He looks so different like this. Every time Yuuri has seen Viktor, whether on TV or from a distance at competitions, he’s had a smile plastered on his face. An overbearingly gorgeous, charming smile. He knows there’s no way Viktor is happy and social all the time, but he’s never seen Viktor look upset at all, let alone this frustrated.

Viktor mutters to himself in Russian, rubbing his forehead roughly. Yuuri furrows his brows, trying to parse through the sentence and see if he understands any of it. He tried to teach himself Russian when he was a kid but he didn’t get very far, and Viktor speaks more quickly than Rosetta Stone did.

Viktor turns away from the mirror and starts pacing in Yuuri’s direction, jolting Yuuri out of his trance and throwing him back into a panic attack. He’s very obviously sitting in plain sight from that angle, and he’s positive Viktor will see him.

But he doesn’t; he’s so wrapped up in his own thoughts that he doesn’t notice Yuuri. He just goes back into rehearsing to himself.

“I’ve been with the FFKK for over twenty years and my career in skating has been more than I ever could have asked for,” Viktor says, forcing that charming smile back onto his face. “At this time my next season remains unplanned as I consider the path I want to pursue next.”

Yuuri’s heart stops. Why the hell does that sound like a retirement speech?

Viktor pauses in his pacing, turning to face the mirror again. He shuts his eyes and covers his face, sighing softly and shaking his head. Yuuri’s phone starts vibrating loudly and he scrambles to silence it, desperate to hear what Viktor is going to say next, but it’s too late.

“Oh!” Viktor exclaims, clutching his chest. He catches sight of Yuuri right away, directly in front of him, and Yuuri freezes. “Sorry, I didn’t know there was anyone in here,” Viktor says. He tilts his head with a concerned look. “Are you okay?”

Yuuri just stares at him, stuck like a deer in headlights. This is not the first impression he wanted. This is the worst first impression possible. This is how Viktor is going to remember him; not as a promising, improving skater; not as someone good enough to make it into the Grand Prix Series. No. Instead, Viktor will always know him as someone who cries in the locker room and listens to people having private conversations with themselves.

 _Run_ , he thinks. He tries to pass the message along to his legs but he’s frozen in place by Viktor’s gaze.

Is he angry? He doesn’t look angry. He looks worried. Why? Because of what Yuuri overheard? Is he actually planning on retiring and doesn’t want anyone to know yet?

Viktor hesitantly takes a step toward him and Yuuri presses himself back against the wall. _Move. Run. Do_ **_something_** _._

Viktor furrows his brow and squints. “You look familiar,” he says, “do I —?”

He doesn’t make it to the end of the sentence before Yuuri is on his feet and sprinting out of the locker room. He scurries down a hallway at random and finds somewhere quiet and nondescript to hide, tears violently blurring his eyes.

 _You look familiar_. All his life, Yuuri wanted nothing more than to be recognized as a skater by Viktor, but not like _that_. And what is Viktor going to think when he sees Yuuri Katsuki, perv-extraordinaire, absolutely biff it on the ice?

An _average_ first impression would have been better than this. Viktor will write him off the second he sees who the purported up-and-comer Katsuki Yuuri is.

Yuuri sinks to the floor and cries into his hands. He wants to go home. He wants comfort and he has no one to seek it from so he curls further into himself, choking on his own spit as he tries to keep himself from hyperventilating.

He barely registers his phone buzzing again, this time incessantly, and he fumbles for his pocket. He wipes his eyes and takes heaving, trembling breaths as he squints at the screen. It’s Celestino. He has ten minutes before he has to be on the ice.

He could leave, but he owes it to Celestino to skate — he paid for half the trip, so Yuuri can’t just disappear and expect to be forgiven.

He takes a few long breaths and sniffles before declining the call and shakily shoving himself to his feet. He has five minutes to even moderately compose himself before getting on the ice and promptly ruining his skating career. He can handle that.

 

* * *

 

Biting his lip, Yuuri slowly unlocks one of the the back doors to the AccorHotels Arena and slips inside, hoping he’s sneaking in undiscovered. One of the only good things about being generally unassuming is no one really notices when you’re doing something you aren’t supposed to, and Yuuri really needs to be unnoticed right now.

His short program didn’t go well. He doesn’t remember much of it — after barely sleeping and then having a full-on breakdown, he was exhausted and completely out of it. He fell at least once. His footwork was okay, but his overall performance wasn’t up to par. He wobbled on most of his jumps. His scores were… not good.

But despite skating being what made him such a wreck in the first place, it’s the only thing he wants to do to calm down. When he gets to the rink he changes into his skates and steps onto the ice. With the arena mostly dark, completely empty, and silent except for the sound of Yuuri’s skates on the ice, he’s calm. Right now he can skate for himself, and that’s exactly what he needs.

He starts off mindlessly doing figures, working off muscle memory alone while he meditates in his own unique way. Today was a disaster, but now it’s over. He still has tomorrow to face, but for now he’s safe. Free to do whatever he wants without the repercussions of judges and coaches and spectators.

It’s funny sometimes, how difficult it is to do something he loves so much. All he’s ever wanted to do is skate, but it’s caused him more stress than anything else. It’s hard to embrace the excitement of competing when he gets so nervous about failing that he becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy.

This is the part of skating that he truly loves. The soothing scrape of skates on freshly cleaned ice. The echo of his movements throughout the arena. The way music starts to play clearly in his mind, forming a melody to fit his aimless routine.

One of his favorite pieces floats into his mind and he lets it take over his body. It’s one of Viktor’s junior division free skates, the last one before he moved into the senior division. It’s Yuuri’s favorite to skate when he’s stressed because it’s simple. There’s only one quad, which Viktor snuck in during the Grand Prix Final that year. He landed it perfectly and it became his signature, which Yuuri was enamored with.

Of course, Yuuri can still barely land a quadruple toe loop, let alone a flip. Unless he’s feeling ambitious enough to try the quad he brings it down to a triple, which is exactly what he does now. It’s not as stunning, but he doesn’t have anyone to impress here. He prefers to focus on the performance and interpretation. He can put all his emotions into it. It’s cathartic, and by the end of the piece he can feel his shoulders loosening and the coil of tension in his stomach begin to unwind.

“That was one of mine, wasn’t it?”

Yuuri lets out an unsightly squeak and jolts, slipping and swiftly dropping to the ice. He performs a well-practiced fall and manages to roll and avoid slamming his face into the ice, then frantically scrambles to his hands and knees to see who snuck up on him, because it sounded like —

“V — Viktor!” Yuuri sputters, wide-eyed when he sees his idol standing at the barrier. “What are you doing here?!”

Viktor grimaces and leans over the barrier to look at him. “Are you okay? Sorry, Yakov keeps telling me I need to stop sneaking up on people, but I didn’t want to interrupt. You were really absorbed in your skating.”

The blood drains from Yuuri’s face and his mouth gapes. _No, no,_ **_no_** _._ “Did you see — how long have you been standing there?”

“Long enough to know that was one of my programs,” Viktor says. “Junior division, right? How long have you been a fan?”

“Oh my god,” Yuuri mumbles, gathering himself up off the ice, “oh my god, I’m so sorry, I should go — ”

“What, why?” Viktor asks, face falling.

Yuuri shakes his head and hurriedly skates to the barrier without answering. _Jesus Christ._ First eavesdropping in the locker room, now this?

“You don’t have to go!” Viktor insists. “Please wait, Yuuri.”

Yuuri freezes at the sound of his name from Viktor’s mouth and turns bright red. He knew Viktor was at least semi-aware of him, but knowing Viktor knows who he is after _today_ is absolutely mortifying. His throat tightens and he stares down at the ice.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, eyes watering. This is not the first conversation he wanted to have with Viktor Nikiforov. “You must think I’m a freak, or some kind of stalker.”

“Why would I think that?”

Yuuri blinks back tears and looks up at Viktor in surprise. He looks genuinely confused and Yuuri doesn’t know how to respond for a moment.

“You… found me hiding in the locker room while you were trying to talk to yourself and you walked in on me skating one of your old programs from memory,” Yuuri says. Viktor just stares at him and waits for further explanation, and Yuuri doesn’t know whether or not to keep digging his own grave at this point. “Is… does that not seem weird to you?” he asks.

“Not really.” Viktor shrugs. “You were already in the locker room before I got there. You were here first. When you think about it, isn’t it more weird that _I_ walked in on _you_ both times? Wouldn’t that make me the stalker?”

Yuuri opens his mouth to reply but nothing comes out. Viktor smiles at his lack of response. “See, it is weird!” he says. “And lots of people like to skate my programs. Though, most of them don’t take as much creative liberty as you.”

Yuuri blushes brightly, holding back another apology. “So… you’re not upset?” he asks softly.

“No,” Viktor says, taking a step in Yuuri’s direction. “But you were. In the locker room. Were you crying?”

Yuuri stares at him again. _Is this really happening?_ Is he having a conversation about his feelings with his idol and childhood crush in the dead of night?

“Um, it doesn’t matter,” Yuuri mutters. He doesn’t want to push the boundaries of this incredibly unreal scenario — if he can get out of here without Viktor thinking he’s an absolute wreck, he’ll be happy. “I should go; you came here to skate.”

Viktor steps closer and body-blocks the entry to the rink so Yuuri has no escape route. “I saw your short program today,” he says. “And tonight I watched all of your other performances.”

“Oh, god,” Yuuri groans, dropping his head into his hands. This is exactly what he feared would happen. He never got a chance to show Viktor and the rest of the world that he _can_ skate. He let his anxiety get the better of him and biffed it in front of everyone, and now Viktor has him cornered in an ice rink to tell him to just give up and —

“You are such an incredible enigma.”

Yuuri lifts his head and blinks. “Excuse me?”

Viktor winces. “Did that translate correctly?” he asks. “I mean it in a good way. You know, an enigma. Like… a contradiction.”

“No, it translates,” Yuuri says, furrowing his brows, “but I don’t understand.”

“Well, I watched all your performances,” Viktor repeats. “I was amazed. Your footwork is remarkable. You move in the most beautiful ways, like you’re making the music with your body. It’s enchanting.”

“But your technical scores are pathetic,” he continues, bouncing on his heels like he’s excited to belittle Yuuri to his face. “You can barely land the simplest quads, you fall constantly. You don’t make any sense!”

Yuuri gawks at him, stunned into silence. He thinks he’s supposed to be insulted, but all he can feel is awe at the fact that his idol is calling him beautiful and enchanting. What do you say to an intimidating, gorgeous, unreachable competitor who simultaneously tears you down _and_ compliments you?

Yuuri realizes he’s holding his breath and he lets it out in a rush. “I — why are you telling me this?” he asks.

“Because I _want_ to understand you,” Viktor explains, a smile growing on his face. “Why aren’t you rising to the top like you should be?”

“ _Excuse_ me?” Yuuri exclaims, going wide-eyed. “Is this some sort of joke?”

Viktor frowns, looking confused. “No? Compared to your past performances today’s was abysmal. You should have surpassed Cao Bin during the short, but you’re in last place. What happened?”

Yuuri opens his mouth to reply, still astounded, then hesitates. He can’t tell Viktor to his face that he’s the reason for the anxiety, the panicked locker room experience, the awful scores. It would push this experience from harmless to extremely creepy.

Instead, he decides to tell a half-truth. “Um, nerves?” he says. “It’s my first grand prix qualifier and — and I had so many expectations to live up to — ”

“Whose expectations?” Viktor asks, tilting his head.

Yuuri stalls. “Um… my own?” he mumbles.

Viktor stares at him for a moment, realization dawning on his face. “So it’s a confidence problem,” he mutters, more to himself than Yuuri.

Yuuri responds anyway, wanting to defend himself but not knowing how. “It — it doesn’t matter,” he huffs, cheeks pinkening. “I don’t know why you think I should be surpassing anyone, or why you care. It’s not like you have to worry about me as your competition. I’ll never make it as far up on the roster as you.”

He shuts his eyes, taking slow breaths to calm himself. He wants to leave but Viktor is in the way, and even being humiliated won’t give him the willpower to shove his idol aside.

“You know,” Viktor says, voice softer than before, “watching your performances inspired me.”

Yuuri laughs, mirthless. “What, to track me down and remind me I’m no good?”

It’s quiet. After a moment, Yuuri feels Viktor’s hand touching his, squeezing softly, and his eyes fly open to find a warm, sad expression on Victor’s face. “I haven’t felt inspired in a long time,” Viktor says. “Longer than I like to admit, even to myself.”

“Is that… is that what you were saying in the locker room?” Yuuri asks timidly.

The blood drains from Viktor’s face. “You heard all of that?” he asks, stiffening and taking his hand back.

“No!” Yuuri answers hurriedly. “Well, not all of it just — just the parts in English, but it sounded like — well, it sounded like you… were planning on retiring.” His heart breaks as he says it.

Viktor purses his lips. “No one is supposed to know about that,” he says, his voice nearly a whisper. “Not even my coach.”

“I won’t say anything,” Yuuri swears. “But… are you?”

Viktor sighs, scrubbing a hand over his face. “I am… considering other avenues along the path of my career.”

“Oh,” Yuuri murmurs. His throat tightens and he can feel tears pricking at the corners of his eyes, so he looks away. “Right.”

Viktor drops his hand from his face and takes a deep breath, like he’s trying to center himself. “One of the avenues I’ve been considering is coaching,” he explains. “For high-level skaters like you.”

Yuuri nods, still not looking at him. “Whoever gets you as a coach will be lucky,” he says, truly meaning it. Thinking about Viktor leaving the ice isn’t something Yuuri likes to dwell on — he’s the reason Yuuri got into the sport in the first place, and knowing that he wouldn’t be around anymore is world-changing.

“Yuuri, I’m talking about you,” Viktor huffs. “I want to coach _you._ ”

Yuuri whips his head around to gawp at Viktor like he’s insane. Sure, Yuuri has imagined this exact scenario about a thousand times and has never wanted anything more in his life, but this is _so_ not the right time.

“Seeing your potential and your love for this sport despite your nerves woke up my inspiration,” Viktor explains. “Seeing you skate one of my pieces here just made it more obvious that it would be the right decision.”

“V — Viktor,” Yuuri stammers, “I — I _can’t_ —”

“Yes you can,” Viktor insists.

“I _can’t_ be the reason you retire,” Yuuri argues. “I can’t be responsible for that.”

Viktor’s smile disappears and makes way for a hard, bitter expression. “Well, you wouldn’t be responsible, would you?” he huffs. “ _I_ would. It’s my choice to retire and I’m _allowed_ to make it. I’m _allowed_ to make my own damn _choices_.”

Yuuri shrinks, sliding backwards on the ice. He’s _never_ seen Viktor angry and it’s extremely jarring. “I — right — sorry — ” he stammers, flushing.

Viktor comes back to himself, softening immediately. “Yuuri, I — I’m sorry,” he sighs, scrubbing a hand over his face. “Sorry. I’ve dealt with people telling me what I can and can’t do for a long time and I’m tired of it. I’m an adult. I can choose what’s best for myself, and right now it’s trying something _new_ for the first time in twenty years. And what I want to do is coach. I want to coach _you._ ”

Yuuri opens his mouth but nothing comes out. He can’t imagine a more perfect offer. But he has Celestino to think about, and Phichit, and the rest of the skating community. What would people say about him if he took Viktor from the sport?

“Just… consider my offer,” Viktor pleads, seeing he isn’t going to decide just now. “You can let me know tomorrow after the free skate.”

“... Okay,” Yuuri cautiously agrees. “I’ll consider it.”

Viktor smiles, shoulders relaxing. “Good. Thank you.”

Yuuri nods. “You’re welcome. Now, can I…?” He nods to the space Viktor is filling, blushing.

“Oh! Yes.”

Viktor smiles and moves aside, gesturing for Yuuri to leave the rink. Yuuri smiles awkwardly in return and steps off the ice, grabbing his skate guards off the barrier and sliding them on. When he finishes he looks up at Viktor, biting the inside of his lip.

“Thank you,” he says softly. “For the compliments. I… it means a lot to me.”

“I hope hearing it from me helps you realize it’s true,” Viktor says, expression warm. He leans down and removes his own skate guards before stepping onto the ice. “Have a beautiful night, Yuuri.”

 

* * *

 

“So,” Celestino says, “that was a much different performance than yesterday.”

Yuuri blushes, looking away from his coach as they wander away from the kiss and cry. “Sorry for my inconsistency,” he says, resisting the urge to duck his head in a compulsory bow. “I guess I just... felt more confident today.”

Celestino hums in agreement. “I’d say so. Any reason why?”

Yuuri goes silent and worries at the inside of his lip. He woke up this morning with a renewed sense of dread for the free skate, but for different reasons. Viktor had expectations for him. Of course, Celestino and Phichit and everyone else who cares for him have those same expectations, but hearing them coming from Viktor was entirely different. When the time came for him to skate, Yuuri realized how determined he was to prove Viktor right. He wanted to be the person Viktor offered to coach. And now that that thought is planted in his mind…

“Um, yes,” Yuuri stammers, trying to find a way to spit out what he wants to say. “Yes. I… I stole your coach’s key to the rink last night to come and skate. Sorry.”

“Forgiven,” Celestino says immediately. “Continue.”

Yuuri shimmies uncomfortably. “Well, when I was at the rink, um, Viktor showed up.”

“Did he?” Celestino hums.

“Yes,” Yuuri says. “And when he was there… he made me an offer.”

“Oh?”

“He… he offered to be my coach,” Yuuri says, voice dropping to a near whisper and eyes welling up. He feels like he’s betraying Celestino by even mentioning the encounter, let alone bringing up the fact that he wants to accept. “Um, I told him no —”

“You told him _no_?” Celestino interjects, looking incredulous. “ _Seriously?_ I could have sworn you were going to accept immediately!”

Yuuri blinks in surprise. “Wait, you _knew_?”

“Of course I did,” Celestino huffs, smiling fondly and crossing his arms. “Viktor looked up my personal number and called me yesterday evening. He wanted to let me know before he made you the offer. I’ll admit I wasn’t happy about the idea of losing one of my best students, but I thought you’d take it right away!”

“I — I told him that I’d consider it, too, but — I am… so _confused_ ,” Yuuri says. “You _want_ me to go train under Viktor?”

Celestino sighs, putting a hand on Yuuri’s shoulder. “I want you to do what’s best for you and your career,” he says. “And after that performance, I think we both know what that means.”

Yuuri swallows hard, blinking back grateful tears. “Thank you, Ciao Ciao,” he whispers.

“You’re welcome,” Celestino says, smiling. “Now go tell him so he stops calling me every fifteen minutes asking if you’ve decided.”

Yuuri laughs and nods, wiping at his eyes. He heads off in pursuit of Viktor and his entourage, scanning the rink as he goes. He hurries in their direction when he sees them, and when Viktor catches sight of Yuuri he waves and grins excitedly.

“Yuuri!” Viktor exclaims as he approaches. “That was incredible! You were like a completely different person from yesterday.”

“It kind of felt like I was,” Yuuri agrees, smiling softly. Out of the corner of his eye he sees Viktor’s coach staring him down and he shrinks, feeling less confident. He looks back at Viktor and licks his lips anxiously. “Um, can I talk to you alone?”

Viktor nods, following as Yuuri leads him away from the busy rink. They duck into a slightly less crowded hallway and Viktor looks at Yuuri expectantly.

Yuuri shuffles his feet awkwardly. “I was just talking to Celestino,” he says. “About your offer. And he said that he knew before I did.”

Viktor’s face falls. “Oh, I overstepped my boundaries didn’t I?” he asks, looking sincerely concerned. “I was trying to avoid that, I just wanted to make sure he didn’t think I was trying to steal you away.”

“You know,” Yuuri says, “you’re… a lot more forward than I’m used to. You’re really overwhelming and nothing like I expected you to be.”

Viktor ducks his head. “I’m sorry,” he says.

“Why?” Yuuri asks, smiling. “You’re so much more incredible than I could have imagined. You completely blew my expectation out of the water. And … if it’s still out there, I’d like to accept your offer. I want to surprise you just as much as you surprised me. ”

Viktor whips his head back up, eyes sparkling. “Really?” he asks. Yuuri nods and Viktor absolutely _beams,_ rushing forward and pulling Yuuri into a tight hug. “Yuuri, you’re so far past my expectations already! I might have to make some new ones!”

Yuuri squirms, laughing breathlessly and blushing profusely. Viktor pulls back and grins at him. “You and I are going to have _so_ much fun together,” he says, winking. “But in the meantime, I have to get ready to skate. Thank you. _Thank_ you.”

Yuuri smiles, completely dumbfounded, and watches as Viktor jogs back over to his coach wearing the first genuine smile Yuuri has ever seen on him. Maybe Phichit was right — nothing can ever go quite the way he plans it. Sometimes, things work out far better than he could have imagined.

 

**Author's Note:**

> my contribution to the [Shall We Read zine](http://yoilitmag.tumblr.com), issue 2! pre-gay for gay that will never be written. rip my potential


End file.
